


A Light for Tired Eyes

by acesdesire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Hunter Prompto Argentum, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, World of Ruin (Final Fantasy), World of Ruin Big Bang (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesdesire/pseuds/acesdesire
Summary: As his blurry vision focused on his former companion, Prompto had to remind himself that this wasn't a dream.  Gladio was here—flesh and blood and scars.“Hope you won’t fall asleep on the job,” Gladio teased, but his effort to do so was meek.  He was too preoccupied with how exhausted Prompto must have been to doze off for nearly the entire ride.  Life in the World of Ruin hadn’t been kind to any of them, but Prompto…  He seemed different—a far cry from the young man who used to sing at the top of his lungs, and joke until he had everyone in stitches.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25
Collections: World of Ruin Big Bang





	A Light for Tired Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy to have been a part of the World of Ruin Big Bang this year! I had such a fun time writing this piece and working with my amazing artist (and BFF) Emily. Be sure to see her artwork at the end of the fic! You can also find Emily @softpining on Twitter. Thank you so much to the moderators for keeping everything so organized, and for their continuous hard work! Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy my contribution to this project!

“Argentum, you up for another hunt?” a woman shouted over the pounding of a pickaxe. Prompto glanced behind him, wiping an exhausted arm over his damp forehead, drying the sweat on his blue flannel shirt. Through the gaps in the iron gate, he spied the source of the call—Meldacio’s huntsmaster, who kept everything running like clockwork. Prompto gave a reluctant glance back at the mounds of rock surrounding him. Mining meteorshards could wait until later. Getting rid of daemons was a more surefire way to guarantee people’s immediate safety.

“Yep, on my way,” Prompto sang. He exited the mining area and hurried toward the young woman who stood on the front steps of the item shop. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, her jaw sharp and mouth firm.

“There’s a safehouse near the cliff overlooking Insomnia. We’ve just gotten word that a group of Ronins are in the area, and are likely to destroy the shelter.”

“Insomnia...” Prompto repeated numbly, frowning. It was painful to think about the city he’d once called home, the city his best friend and Crown Prince should have been here to rule, the place that was now nothing but ruins.

“Are you up for it?” the huntsmaster asked, lifting a brow.

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Not alone, you’re not.”

Prompto looked to his left, stomach flipping as he watched with skepticism; a familiar figure emerged from a truck, just inside the main gate of Meldacio HQ. Gladio stood as tall as ever, his scarred face twisted up with a small smile. He gave a wave to the truck driver and shoved the passenger door closed with his elbow. Confidently, he strode over to Prompto, who stared up at him, hardly believing that the sight before him could be real.

“Gladio? What are you doing here?” he asked, smiling weakly, mouth twitching with emotion. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen each other. It could have been six or seven years ago now, not long after Noct had gone into the Crystal. During their last encounter, they had gone on a hunt together in Malmalam Thicket, but hadn’t crossed paths again after returning to Lestallum.

“Heard there were some hunts that needed to be taken care of. Thought I’d swing by and check it out,” Gladio announced.

“Oh, well, there are plenty of hunts. Maisy will point you in the right direction. She’s got the inside scoop on _all_ the goings-on around here,” Prompto smiled, giving a wave toward the huntsmaster beside him.

“Actually, would you mind if I tagged along on the Insomnia hunt?”

“I can handle that one,” Prompto shrugged. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded the big guy’s company—especially after spending such a long time apart—but he was afraid that once he saw the city for himself, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together.

“I’m not doubting your abilities, but if a Ronin gets one good jab in on ya, you’re pretty much done for if you don’t have backup. Besides, I’m just as interested to get a peek at the city as you are,” Gladio reminded him. Prompto nodded, eyes low to the ground. It was possible that having a friendly face at his side wouldn’t be such a bad idea, as long as he could manage to keep his emotions tucked beneath the surface.

“Okay, I guess I see your point,” Prompto said, words coming out slow and reluctant. “Let’s gear up, then.” He gave a wave, encouraging Gladio to follow him to one of the wooden shacks across the road.

“What’s in here?” Gladio quizzed, as Prompto led the way inside the dark building.

“Weapons.” Prompto reached for the lantern on the table by the entryway, and turned the knob until the flame ignited. The shack’s four walls were home to a variety of weapons—staves, daggers, swords—but the one Prompto chose was a crossbow. He pulled it off the wall and drew it back, as if getting a feel for it, even though from what Gladio could tell, he had handled weapons of this type a hundred times over.

“What happened to your guns?”

“I still use ‘em sometimes, but I like these things, too. Sometimes it’s kinda neat to try something different, you know? Changing things up can help keep you on your toes,” Prompto explained.  
  
In the lantern light, Gladio was now able to really take in the sight of Prompto—how much older he looked with those deep lines under his eyes, like he hardly slept anymore; how much more mature he appeared now that his jaw and neck had filled out, and his facial hair had grown in; how strong he looked with that crossbow in hand, shoulders flexing as he pulled back on the bowstring. He looked good, despite his weary appearance.

“What about you, big guy?” Prompto asked, tucking his weapon under one arm and tossing Gladio a dagger off the wall. The man caught it with ease. He held it out in front of his face, the sparkle of the dagger reflecting in his golden eyes.

“I think I’ll stick with my usual, thanks,” he grinned, returning the dagger to its slot on the wall and swapping it for a greatsword.

* * *

The drive to the outlook was long, with neither Prompto nor Gladio quite knowing what to say as they rode along in the back of the pickup. Prompto eventually drifted off to sleep, head propped up against the back window, and Gladio watched him with sympathy. He wondered what the poor guy had been through since they had last parted. He wondered how Prompto had been getting by without Noctis, as the prince had become his lifeline over those few years together. Of course, Gladio felt that he and Prompto and Ignis had grown close over the course of their journey as well— _they had_ —but he supposed that even a friendship as strong as theirs was hard to simply pick up where they’d left off, especially after all this time.

Prompto didn’t stir until the truck slowed to a stop on the bumpy dirt road near Ostium Gorge, and he awoke with slow, sleepy blinks of his eyes. As his blurry vision focused on his former companion, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. Gladio was here—flesh and blood and scars. Prompto managed a smile as he took in the sight of his ally.

“Hope you won’t fall asleep on the job,” Gladio teased, but his effort to do so was meek. He was too preoccupied with how exhausted Prompto must have been to doze off for nearly the entire ride. Life in the World of Ruin hadn’t been kind to any of them, but Prompto… He seemed different—a far cry from the young man who used to sing at the top of his lungs, and joke until he had everyone in stitches.

“No worries, big guy,” Prompto grinned, eyes still appearing dozy. “I got this in the bag.”  
  
The two hopped out of the truck and started through the maze of ruins where they had once taken down a mass of MTs, treading carefully, knowing full well that monsters of an even fiercer kind could pop out at any moment. They took down the odd Galvanade and Thunder Bomb on their way through the ruins, but the real battle began when they reached the narrow, grassy path toward the cliff. Ronins cornered them between the rock walls, making it difficult to avoid their long, glimmering blades, but Prompto and Gladio quickly fell into step with one another.

Muscle memory seemed to kick in as they fought together for the first time in years—knowing exactly what the other was about to do, and complementing their attacks with techniques of their own; feeling that familiar chemistry, that balance, that shared stream of magic that they borrowed from their slumbering king.

Fighting together was comfortable, easy. Having such trust in a companion—knowing Gladio would have his back when he was hurt, or when he needed him to step in with a swing of his greatsword… That kind of trust was something Prompto hadn’t experienced since he’d lost Noctis, or at least since the last time he’d had Ignis or Gladio fighting at his side. He had certainly never had that kind of unwavering faith in the hunters he’d fought with over the years. Sure, he trusted them to some degree, but not with his _life_.  


Prompto’s shoulders were aching by the time they fought through the passageway and reached the clearing atop the cliff. Even Gladio’s wrists were paining from the weight of his greatsword, his hands no longer used to fighting so many daemons without a group of hunters at his back. Still, fighting alongside Prompto had felt natural—even _soothing_ —to the point where he preferred his company to that of his usual backup members. The two of them fighting side by side again was well worth the extra strain of being a mere duo. Gladio had to admit he had missed this rhythm of combat, the easiness of fighting alongside a comrade that could harmonize with his every move.

The safehouse stood on the left side of the clearing, the many Lightning Bombs and Giant Flans that had threatened the shelter now taken care of, thanks to the two members of the Lucian Prince’s retinue. Prompto led the way into the shack, the room immediately becoming lit by the small flashlight pinned to his shirt.

“Looks like it’s still intact,” Prompto said, breathing a sigh of relief as he analyzed the plain, wooden walls. In the corner of the room was a medical kit and a few cans of food that the hunters had placed there for any civilians who might find themselves in need of shelter. Even the extra bedding was untouched, and Prompto was able to settle a little at the idea that the monsters had not yet destroyed _everything_ they had all worked so hard to build.

“Mission accomplished then, I guess,” Gladio stated, hands folded on the hilt of his greatsword. He leaned against it where it was stuck in the ground, just outside the doorway to the shack.  
“Yeah.”

“Hey, you, uh... You want to take a breather? I’ll admit, even _I’m_ a little tired from the trek up here.”

“O-oh. Sure, yeah,” Prompto agreed, suddenly feeling the familiar sensation of anxiety fluttering around in his stomach.  
  
He wasn’t sure why he was nervous to settle down when it was just the two of them, or why he was balking at the idea of having to make conversation with this man who used to be one of his closest friends. Maybe it was because of the aching hole in his heart that had been left in Noct’s absence. Or perhaps it was because he knew that no matter where this conversation went, Noctis’ name was bound to arise at some point.

Still, he helped Gladio gather what small bits of tinder they could find, and Gladio—still remarkably skilled in survival—was able to get a fire going. They dragged a couple of chairs out of the safehouse and set them up around the makeshift firepit.  
  
“Wish we had a couple of beers right now,” Gladio smirked, breaking the silence as they sat watching the flames. Prompto hummed a small noise of agreement, his smile small, but visible.

“Don’t even remember the last time I had one. It seems like all kinds of products are hard to come by these days. Even common ingredients are getting tougher to find.”

“Yeah, last time I saw Iggy, he was sayin’ the same thing. ‘Course, he doesn’t cook so much now that... You know,” Gladio sighed. The truth was, Prompto _didn’t_ know. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Ignis’ blindness, or whether his will to cook had disappeared when the prince had; he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know the truth, either.

“You see Ignis often?” Prompto decided to ask.

“Nah, not really.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

Silence struck again, and Gladio turned his head to the left, just enough to take in Prompto’s expression without getting caught staring. Despite the nap he’d taken earlier in the truck, Prompto still looked so tired, so weary. They had all lost something the day Noctis had disappeared into the Crystal, but perhaps Prompto had been hit the hardest of all. He had lost his best friend, the person who had given him purpose, the man who had taught him his life was worth something.

“So, you gotta tell me what’s been up lately, big guy. Just because you weren’t interested in changing up your weapon doesn’t mean _nothing’s_ changed, right? I heard a rumour you were seeing someone,” Prompto spoke up, finally finding a place to dive into conversation.

“Oh, uh...” Gladio started uncomfortably. He sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers nervously against the armrests. “Yeah, I was actually engaged for a bit a few years ago, but I called it off.”

“Uh, r-really?” Prompto stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. She and I just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Besides, I’m not sure any bride fantasizes about their wedding taking place in daemonville,” Gladio said, simply.  
  
He rubbed a hand over his face, and sat forward, noticing the regretful look on Prompto’s face. His lips were twisted up and his eyes full of sorrow as he stared into the fire, like he wasn’t sure what to say next. Gladio couldn’t let him stay like that.

“Alright, now you gotta tell _me_. Anything ever happen with you and Cindy?” Gladio pried, smirking and successfully meeting Prompto’s gaze.

“Cindy?” Prompto asked, brows popping up in surprise. He clutched his knees, knuckles turning white as his fingers curled around them. “No. After Noct... M-my heart just wasn’t in it anymore,” he shrugged. “Felt pretty lost without my wingman.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, voice containing hints of unrest. Prompto watched the man carefully as he folded his hands in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, golden eyes on the fire.  
  
“I’m sorry, Prompto. If I’d been able to protect Noct—”  
  
“No, you can’t think that way, big guy. We all bear the blame. We were all his protectors.”  
  
“Yeah, but I was his Shield. I was _born_ to protect him, and I failed my duty,” Gladio announced, the pain in his voice shocking Prompto. It took a minute before Prompto was even able to form any words.

“N-no, Gladio. You can’t think like that. None of us knew what would happen,” he tried to convince him.  
  
That day in Zegnautus was still painfully vivid, for a lot of reasons. Prompto would never forget his aches and pains from being restrained, the fear that he might never escape, the relief he’d felt when Noctis and the others had freed him from that horrible contraption. But most of all, he would never forget how quickly the feeling of safety had been torn away from him again, when they had gone into that dreaded chamber to find Noct already inside the Crystal.

“But as his sworn protector, I never should have let him go off alone in that place, especially when we knew that son of a bitch Chancellor was nearby.”

“Gladio, it’s ok—”  
  
“It’s not okay, Prompto!” Gladio shouted, getting up from his chair.  
  
He stormed away from the cliff, where the rock walls lined either side of the path back down. Prompto was up from his chair in an instant, following him. The last thing he wanted was Gladio going off on his own in a place like this, especially as emotionally vulnerable as he was. To his surprise, however, Gladio stopped where the narrow opening began and the rock walls bordered the outlook.

“That one mistake is the reason why Noct’s gone! That one mistake is why the whole world is in darkness right now!” With each statement, he pounded a giant fist against the rock.  
  
Prompto closed his eyes to try and block out the sights and sounds of his knuckles colliding with the wall of bedrock. Even from his spot a few feet behind him, he heard Gladio suppress a sob, and he urged himself to proceed to his side. A few years ago, he would have been terrified to comfort the big guy at a time like this, but he was more confident in himself now. Besides, he knew those feelings of guilt as well as Gladio did; he had carried a lot of regrets about that day, too.

“Hey,” Prompto murmured, hand curling over Gladio’s and gently guiding it away from the rock.  
  
He could see Gladio’s surprised gaze watching him, but he kept his eyes on his injured hand. He was glad he was better able to handle the sight of blood now than he had been ten years ago. During their journey, he probably would have been too queasy to look, but now, he was able to keep Gladio’s bloodied hand within his grasp. His grip shifted slightly, fingers curling under Gladio’s, and tenderly locking their hands together.

“It’s alright, big guy. Come with me.”

Stunned by the young man’s actions, Gladio followed as Prompto led him back to the chairs. The warmth of Prompto’s hand was foreign and new, yet soft and soothing. While Gladio situated himself in his seat, Prompto ducked inside the safehouse, grabbing the medical kit before returning to Gladio’s side.

“I don’t need that,” Gladio gruffly protested.

“Will you just let someone take care of _you_ for once?” Prompto groaned, plopping himself down in his chair and scooting it in close to Gladio’s. The insistence in Prompto’s voice made Gladio keep his mouth shut. Prompto pressed a white cotton cloth against his knuckles, holding it tight against his skin to staunch the bleeding.  
  
They sat there side-by-side, Gladio continuing to take in this strange feeling of his hand sandwiched in between Prompto’s. He found himself gazing at Prompto in the firelight, taking in the sharp edges of his features, emphasized by shadows. He looked upon his goatee and age lines, his confident eyes and firmly set mouth, realizing that somewhere along the way, Prompto truly had become a man.  
  
“You can’t blame yourself, Gladio. Trust me, I’ve been down that road, thinking that _I_ was to blame for what happened to Noct. After all, the whole time Ardyn was holding me captive, he kept talking about the Crystal. I felt like... I should have figured out what he was trying to do,” Prompto divulged.  
  
“That’s ridiculous,” Gladio frowned.

“So is blaming _yourself_ ,” Prompto said, his serious gaze locking with Gladio’s.  
  
Gladio stared at him, like he was suddenly seeing a whole new side of his companion that he hadn’t known existed; maybe it _hadn’t_ existed all those years ago. Eventually, Prompto seemed to become timid under Gladio’s stare, and he averted his eyes, focusing again on the cloth in his hand.

“Look, I don’t know if it was the same for you, but the reason things didn’t work out with Cindy was... I just couldn’t bring myself to be with somebody who didn’t understand our journey. Someone who didn’t understand everything that we went through, or... how much I missed Noct,” Prompto admitted, voice quiet. Gladio swallowed hard to wet his parched throat.

“I... I know exactly what you mean. My fiancée didn’t get it either. Told me to get over it. But losing someone like that—”  
  
“It’s not something you can just get over,” Prompto finished for him, meeting his gaze again. Gladio’s eyes seemed to reach something inside him this time, and although Prompto’s insides fluttered, he wasn’t _scared_.

“No, it’s not,” Gladio agreed. Prompto’s eyes were shimmering now, and Gladio was sure his own tears weren’t far behind. To find someone that understood that terrible sore spot felt like the cure to some bitter disease.  
  
Gladio’s fingers curled tighter around Prompto’s now, letting him know that he was not alone in his sorrow. No, they were very much together in this—grieving in the spot that overlooked the remains of their home, grieving for the prince that they had devoted their lives to protecting. Prompto had thought it would be horrible and embarrassing, breaking down in front of Gladio, but now, it felt like a gift to be able to share in this grief.

Prompto lowered his head as the first sob escaped him, and Gladio found himself bravely reaching for his face, fingers grazing the side of his jaw. Prompto didn’t flinch, but merely sought comfort in his eyes, and Gladio wanted to give him comfort in the best way he knew how.  
  
Gracefully, he guided Prompto towards him, hand sliding under his chin, both of them moving closer until lips could meet. Prompto stifled another sob, focusing instead on deepening the kiss, and enjoying the gentle pressure of Gladio’s lips on his own. He raised one of his hands and reached for the man’s neck, holding them steady as mouths moved together.

It wasn’t long before they parted, silently checking with each other to confirm the moment had been pleasurable for both of them. Gladio slowly lowered his hand from Prompto’s face, watching the younger man carefully. Prompto managed a smile, and Gladio was relieved enough to reciprocate the grin.

“Hey, I, uh... I think the bleeding stopped.”

“O-oh.” Prompto quickly loosened his grip on Gladio’s hand, and lifted the cloth away. Gladio was right, but it was probably only because Prompto had unconsciously been squeezing it so hard.

“Sorry,” Prompto sheepishly chuckled.

“Don’t be. That was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” Gladio smiled, making Prompto chuckle softly in return. Feeling the need to busy himself before he ended up getting flustered, Prompto glanced down at the medical kit, fishing for some alcohol swabs to clean the cuts.

“Look, Prompto, this doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

The smile slipped from Gladio’s face with that statement, and Prompto found himself biting his bottom lip in uncertainty. He had enjoyed Gladio’s company, not just in battle, and not just in the conversation they had shared, but in every moment they had spent together since he had arrived in Meldacio earlier that day. The familiar companionship, the feeling of shared magics, the touch of hands and brushes of lips... It had all been so comforting.

“Well... what if I want it to?” he dared to ask, slowly lifting his head to meet Gladio’s gaze again. He was thankful when Gladio appeared pleasantly surprised. A giant hand reached out to touch Prompto’s own where it now rested against his knee, and it was gently tugged into Gladio’s grasp again.

“I’m good with that, too,” Gladio murmured, smile as warm as the glowing fire.  
  


* * *


End file.
